Call of the Dullahan
by Xyrule
Summary: No one can escape death for eternity, and no one knows that better than Lala. Now, in the afterworld she resides in, she meets Kurusu once again. But this time, she can lift her scythe as she always did. Based on Chapter 30. Rewritten!


All was calm in the world by the river, a world of infinite beauty. Peaceful, quiet, and devoid of anyone to disturb its tranquility, save for one. A girl, clothed in a simple white dress. It was her world, that which most only see once before she passes them along to their final destinations with the touch of the scythe she carried.

Kurusu had been here many times. It seemed that he was here almost every day, and every time, he felt the same silent awe at this world's tranquility. He was never afraid, never worried about what this world meant for him, for he knew it was not something to fear. The girl was not something to fear. This world and this girl were simply a force, a part of nature itself, messengers for a greater purpose.

He knew that she would never touch him with that scythe, that which had touched so many countless souls before him. He had crossed to this world many times before, and each time, he had crossed back, to the world his body resided in, to the world of the living.

It was different this time. When he again stood in the lake he always arrived by, he immediately recognized the change.

The girl was crying.

She had never been crying before. He had not known she was capable of such an emotion. But here she was, letting tears fall, creating ripples in the normally still water.

He smiled, a soft smile that radiated with all the warmth he felt, for the girl and for the others he had become close to. "Why are you crying? There's nothing to be sad about."

"How?" she asked him slowly, unable to look directly into his eyes. "Was it Miia? Suu? Mero? They're always like that, aren't they? They never understood how fragile you humans are!" she asked, in an effort to lighten the heavy mood surrounding them.

He simply shrugged. "They love too hard, that's all. They really aren't bad people, you should know that." He laughed sheepishly, holding a hand behind his head in a gesture of defeat. "No point hiding it, huh? We both know why I'm here. Can't really say if I wanted to be, but hey, I lead a good life."

His words were too much, and the girl put both hands to her face, but the tears still flowed between her fingers though she attempted to cover her eyes. She remained silent, though she had clearly heard his question.

He stepped forward, walking to her, maintaining his smile. "Don't cover your face. I don't like it when you hide yourself. You're always in the shadows, and here, it's just us. You can show me your feelings, you know that."

The girl lowered her hands, and looked up, locking his eyes with hers. Her face was stained dark with streaks leading from her eyes, and more were yet to come. "I...I can't..." she managed to say, just barely keeping her voice from cracking.

He tilted his head. "Can't what?" he asked. "You can tell me." he added, in the caring, understanding voice he spoke with whenever he dealt with the many people he had become accustomed to living with.

She stared at him for several seconds, but was unable to keep eye contact with him, unable to tolerate that maddeningly kind expression he always wore. She didn't deserve that look. She was just the matron of this world, the wielder of the scythe. She was nothing, powerless against this man. He had visited her here many times before, and every time, she'd let him slip away from her grasp.

Her purpose was to touch those who visited her with her scythe, and send them to the end of their journeys, but she found that, whenever he came to her, the scythe became heavy, too heavy for her to lift from the ground. Whenever he came to her, it remained in the dirt, slowly sinking into the muddy bank of the lake.

Not this time. Now, she found herself holding the scythe, light as a feather, as it always was when someone visited her. Now, his power, the strength that had been too much for her to bear, had vanished. She knew before he arrived. She knew long ago, when they first met in this peaceful world.

This would be their final meeting. She could lift the scythe. She stared at its blade, glinting black in the sunlight, a light that burned her skin more than it usually did. She knew it was time to finally end this, to end the curse standing before her.

But she found that she couldn't lift her head to face him, the burden she had been forced to carry for so long. She knew what must be done, but she could not speak. She could not tell him.

She heard her name spoken in that voice she both loved and hated, and she was forced to look up at him.

He was still smiling. "You told me that you would handle everything when the time came. So don't hesitate. You're only making things worse on yourself."

Those words. Why did he have to say those words? Didn't he know what he was saying? His words didn't help her, they only made her feel even worse.

 _Why are you so kind?_ she thought, more tears welling up in her eyes. _Don't you know what I have to do? Please, go back, before I can no longer fight against it._

He simply continued to stand there, smiling softly at her. He understood, she knew. She knew he was aware of what she was about to do. She was a dullahan, after all. She had only one purpose. She was just a demon of death, unable to fight against it even to save this one man, this man who had listened to her pour her heart out to him in this world so many times before.

The man shook his head, never losing that annoying smile. "You aren't a demon." he said, as if he could read her thoughts. That was impossible! Why was this man, this boring, completely average human, so talented at drawing out thoughts she didn't want to think? "You aren't a demon." he repeated. "You're an angel. You guide those you meet on their way, and you never once have let them go astray." She would be angry at the smile plastered on his face if her vision wasn't blurred by the water collecting in her eyes. "Look at you...I don't know much about you even after all this time, but I've never heard of a demon who could cry."

Now, she could not stop the tears from flowing once again. "You know what will happen! Why won't you run?" she said, trying to yell, but all she could do was let out her words in a choked whisper. "Go back like you always do! This can't be the final time we meet!"

His smile never fell as he placed his hand onto hers, lightly pulling so that the tip of the curved blade met his chest. "Just do it, Lala. Even I know when I'm through. I've accepted it now. Don't put yourself through that pain needlessly. I'm only one of millions."

She hesitated, but slowly nodded. She knew that she could not deny it any longer. She could only act on her directive and touch him with the scythe.

To defy her purpose now would be to hurt him even more, and the thought of hurting him was a worse poison than losing him could ever be.

His smile never fell as she flicked her wrist, and like always, she felt no resistance at the edge of the scythe. It simply passed through like nothing was there.

The tool didn't care who it touched. It acted as if nothing had ever been there, as if she was alone here like always. It didn't care that her movement was slow, it didn't care that she was reluctant. It did its job loyally, with none of the emotion that exploded inside her as she gave in to the man's request.

There was no sound of blood splashing in the river, no sound at all, but she could hear the shattering in her chest as he vanished from her.

She was left alone again, her curse finally lifted. She knew she should be happy, that she could finally forget this burden that he had forced onto her.

He was gone, sent to his final destination. It had finally happened, after so long spent in equal parts contentment and dread.

She lowered the weapon, tears still flowing, though now, the ripples they made in the water at her feet had shrunk, as if even the gravity of this world knew that she did not want to be reminded of the cause of the emotion.

She couldn't hold the scythe anymore, and it broke free from her hand, collapsing to the riverbank with a wet thud, once more sinking into the ground, too heavy for her to lift.

That man was a curse and nothing more, she told herself over and over again. Her only purpose was to shepherd those who visited her away, and he'd simply been too stubborn to listen. Now, she was free of him, free from that burden.

He was a curse and nothing more.

And she was the dullahan, and nothing more.


End file.
